


...and without there'll never be

by tillthestarsevaporate



Series: you're the sea in which I'm floating (and I lose myself in you) [2]
Category: Crier's War Trilogy - Nina Varela
Genre: F/F, Kissing, POV Crier, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-28
Updated: 2020-09-28
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:08:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26692738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tillthestarsevaporate/pseuds/tillthestarsevaporate
Summary: An extra scene for "You're the Question to the Answer". I'm posting it separately for two reasons: it didn't fit with the overall 5+1 premise, and there's a drastic rating change (if you know what I mean).
Relationships: Crier/Ayla (Crier's War)
Series: you're the sea in which I'm floating (and I lose myself in you) [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1942399
Comments: 2
Kudos: 61





	...and without there'll never be

It was almost dawn when Ayla said, “You know, last night was the first time you’ve kissed me first.”

Crier scrunched her eyebrows. “That can’t be true.”

“Oh yes. I kept waiting for you to kiss me, but you were too . . . shy.”

Crier immediately looked away, proving Ayla right.

“It’s actually pretty cute.”

“Really?”

“Yup.” Ayla was clearly suppressing a laugh.

Crier moved her face closer. “How about now?” She loudly pecked Ayla’s mouth. “How cute”—another peck—“is”—and another—“that?”

Ayla giggled.

Determined to prove her wrong, Crier caught Ayla’s mouth in hers again and bit down on her lower lip. She felt the laugh leave Ayla, her demeanour shifting as Crier’s tongue slid inside her mouth, meeting hers. A twinge of cinnamon and wine met her, and she urgently pushed deeper.

“Wait, wait,” Ayla said in her mouth. “We need to sleep.”

“I don’t care. Do you?” Crier said, breathing heavily.

Ayla shook her head.

Crier stopped talking and kissed Ayla again, and again. Her tongue returned to its gentle probing, the tug of war promising to quench her thirst. As she caressed Ayla’s mouth with her own, her hands cradled Ayla’s head, running fingers through strands of hair, roaming down her back, exploring. She felt a tug at her shirt, and lifted her arms so Ayla could rid her of the fabric. She wore nothing beneath it, and as she felt the heat from Ayla’s hands on her bare back, her eagerness to stroke Ayla’s curves intensified. So she fumbled with Ayla’s shirt, and Ayla helped her as she took care of the buttons and tossed it to the floor. She moved her hands up and down Ayla’s back, then Ayla pressed against her, their chests touching for the first time.

Strange sensations flared in her lower belly. Surreal sensations, and she still wanted more. _Needed_ more.

That touch was the candlewick that burned her entire being, that ignited the desperation.

She gently lowered Ayla to the bed, her back against the covers. As if reading her mind, Ayla removed the rest of her clothes, undergarments included. Crier, busy undressing herself, didn’t react at first. But the moment her eyes fell on Ayla, the moment her mind registered that they were now both naked, she felt like her heart would explode.

She stared, the shyness making a come-back at the most inopportune of times. She caught her breath.

“You’re . . . beautiful, Ayla.”

Ayla pulled her down, on top of her, their lips re-acquainting, and Crier’s reluctance evaporated. Crier’s body rubbed against Ayla’s all along its length. Her desire deepened. Her hands roamed everywhere they could reach. She leaned on her elbows to look at Ayla, her eyes trailing down her body, her fingertips following the same path. Down Ayla’s neck. They lingered on her chest, moving down the valley between Ayla’s breasts and continuing south.

She felt Ayla shudder beneath her. Crier shivered at the sight. Her fingertips descended further, reaching between Ayla’s hips. She run her hand up Ayla’s left thigh, watching the other woman’s breathing quickening. Ayla closed her eyes.

“Crier, please.”

So Crier obliged. She hadn’t done this before, but the desire to touch Ayla, to please her, was so overwhelming that it nullified the need for experience. She softly caressed the hairs between Ayla’s thighs, her fingertips circling Ayla’s clit. Together, they breathed louder, faster, and Crier didn’t wait long before she flicked a finger across the clit, then dipped another between Ayla’s folds. Two fingers.

In and out.

In.

Ayla inhaled sharply, the sweat gleaming on her forehead.

Out.

Crier moved with Ayla.

In. Out.

She felt the muscles clenching around her fingers, Ayla’s hands gripping the sheets.

She watched her, mesmerised, as her breathing reached its climax with tears in her eyes, and her body fervently followed.

Ayla lay still underneath her as she withdrew her fingers and pressed against Ayla’s lips. She kissed her slowly.

“Perfect,” Crier whispered.

She kissed her again.

She felt her own muscles eagerly awaiting Ayla, and it wasn’t long before Ayla was flipping them around and giving her what she needed. What she’s been craving for what seemed like centuries.

Ayla’s fingers started at the hollow between her shoulders, then her breasts, drawing soft circles around the nipples. Crier watched her face, hair dishevelled. She wondered if her own was in a similar state.

Ayla moved her fingers downwards, not wasting any time before she got to her thighs, the pulse inside her. She played with Crier’s clit, teasing around it, a little down, and back up again. She squeezed it with two fingers while her other hand alternated between Crier’s breasts.

Ayla guided Crier to life one leg over her shoulder. Her face was dangerously close to Crier’s centre.

She looked down at her. “Are you okay?” she whispered.

Crier nodded and squeezed her eyes shut to focus on the feel of Ayla against her.

Ayla cupped her hips and pulled her closer. Then _something_ plunged into her and the oceanic hum turned into an unfettered storm and she felt herself _quaking_. Where did Ayla learn how to do _that_?

Only politeness stopped her from screaming Ayla’s name. She clenched her jaw, pressing harder against Ayla. Faster. Like the beat of a power metal tune.

Crier’s breathing quickened to a pace she’d never thought possible for an automa.

Ayla flicked her tongue one last time as Crier gripped the bed and caught her breath, held it, and let it out along with her own release.

Ayla’s face travelled back to Crier’s, and with one lingering kiss, she lay next to Crier.

She saw stars behind her eyelids. For the first time, Crier realised there was truth to the expression humans used.

Crier turned on her side. Ayla faced her and smiled.

“That was . . . worth the wait,” Crier said.

“So you’ve been thinking about it?”

Crier nodded. “I thought about it before we even kissed. I didn’t understand it then, but now…”

“Now?”

“Now I do.” She absently traced Ayla’s arm.

“It was perfect.” Ayla leaned in and softly brushed her lips. She smiled against Crier’s mouth and pulled back.

“Come here,” Crier whispered.

When Ayla melted into her arms, Crier pulled the covers over them. Ayla buried her face in her chest. Crier squeezed her tighter.

They both relaxed into the familiar embrace. Crier heard Ayla’s breaths even out as, from the corner of her eye, she glimpsed the sun’s light from behind the clouds.

She didn’t care for it right now, though, no.

For the true light, _her_ true light, was right there in her arms.


End file.
